The power of the Ecclesiarchy was mobilized to an unprecedented degree, and the entire faith system operated at full capacity like a precise machine.
Every church and every mission station became a screening outpost, with strict vigilance hidden behind thick oak doors. In the light filtering through the stained glass, even the suspended dust seemed to carry a sense of warning.
Chanting and incense continued day and night, and long lines formed in front of confessionals. Believers nervously clutched their rosaries, unaware that a heretic might be lurking among the penitents beside them. The Priests' ears had to listen not only for sins but also for any suspicious phrasing.
Priests and fanatical missionaries, holding sacred relics that had been simply modified to detect faint Psyker disturbances, scanned every believer with piercing gazes, not missing any suspicious clues.
They paid particular attention to those who were "excessively pious"—the lesson from Murmansk taught them that this was precisely the perfect disguise for fourth-generation Genestealers.
Believers who knelt for too long, donated too generously, or prayed with excessive fervor were subjected to even stricter scrutiny.
In Kherson, a bishop even ordered the burning of a batch of holy communion wafer ingredients, donated by "model believers," that were detected to contain unknown biological enzymes, causing a small panic.
In the soaring flames, onlookers saw strange viscous fluid seeping from the flour bags, and only then did they realize that the corruption of heresy had long permeated the holy communion.
The figures of Ecclesiarchy Inquisitors also became active; anyone who showed unusual interest in images of the "Four-Armed Emperor" or had non-standard holy icons hidden in their homes would be immediately taken away for severe interrogation.
The dungeons echoed with the wails of heretics, and holy flames purified every inch of suspicious skin; even the most subtle signs of heresy were verified by the most extreme means.
The Adeptus Arbites's response was the most direct and brutal.
Arbitrators in dark uniforms, wearing skull badges, swarmed out like worker bees, armed with heavy enforcer shotguns and stun batons, brutally cordoning off streets, searching private residences, and checking identities.
Their data slates were directly connected to the central database established by Ovilia; anyone with abnormal genetic files, recent medical records showing unexplained infections, or who behaved "improperly" during the panic, would be immediately detained.
Prisons and temporary detention centers were overflowing.
In port cities and space stations, the Adeptus Arbites even took over the inspection rights of all incoming vessels, using such heavy-handed methods that they caused several small-scale conflicts.
Some Adeptus Arbites officials also took the opportunity to crack down on rivals or eliminate local troublemakers, using "Genestealer suspect" as the most effective charge.
But these actions seemed insignificant compared to the Genestealer invasion.
Neither the Inquisition nor the Star District government ignored these transgressions or abuses of power.
There was only one requirement: zero tolerance for Genestealers.
Alex's directive itself was a manifestation of the Inquisition's will.
Inquisitors and their retinues, affiliated with the Xenos Inquisition, were urgently summoned to form elite teams, targeting high-risk objectives—suspicious deep-space cargo ships, remote mining outposts, or hubs like New Land Island Tai Kong Port that had close contact with the "Star of Ural."
Their methods were more professional and more lethal, often accompanied by the roar of Bolters and the flash of psychic energy.
At the same time, Alex also leveraged his connections within the Daemonculaba Inquisition and the Hereticus Inquisition, wary that the Genestealer crisis might be exploited by Chaos forces.
Information sharing and territorial divisions between different Inquisition factions also led to subtle friction.
But everyone maintained restraint, knowing what was most important and what could be temporarily set aside.
In this purification operation sweeping across the entire Sub-Sector, the Sisters of Silences became the sharpest spearhead of the Imperium.
Their silent figures moved through smoke-filled streets, dark and damp underground pipes, and the intricate compartments of spaceports; wherever they passed, even the air seemed to freeze.
Various Sisters of Silence squads, like deadly shadows, were precisely deployed to areas with the greatest screening resistance and the most reports of psychic anomalies.
Their greatswords remained sheathed, but the suffocating Void Field had already made xenos corruption impossible to hide.
These warriors from the Hunter Demon Order acted precisely and lethally, often able to directly force out hidden Chaos corruption and traces of Genestealer infiltration where conventional screening methods failed.
When they entered an area, Psyker illusions would dissipate like morning mist, Genestealer hive mind connections would suddenly sever, and even the most concealed Warp rifts would temporarily close.
A Tech-Priest wrote in a data log: "Their arrival is like throwing a water purification tablet into murky water, making all impurities clearly visible."
However, this power also brought inevitable alienation.
The nature of the untouchables filled ordinary soldiers and civilians with instinctive awe and fear towards them.
During the purification operation in the Arkhangelsk colony, when Siddhga's squad passed through the central square, the previously crowded populace quickly parted like a receding tide, with some even vomiting on the spot due to excessive panic.
The older Sisters of Silences were long accustomed to this, but some newly appointed Apprentice Sisters would still frown slightly behind their visors—they could sever psychic energy, but they could not sever this repulsion stemming from life's instinct.
However, from the moment they became Sisters of Silences, they were destined to bear these burdens.
At this moment, they were the sharpest blade in Alex's hand to deal with Genestealer contamination.
And this blade was shining with a cold light in every corner of the Rostov Sub-Sector, piercing through the filth hidden beneath the facade of prosperity, one by one.
—
Alex stood on the bridge, gazing at the flickering lights on the star map—New Earth Island Tai Kong Port, Arkhangelsk, Kherson…
Each light could conceal another Murmansk tragedy.
This unprecedented dragnet search consumed vast resources and generated panic and injustice, like a bone-scraping detoxification.
"My Lord, such intensity… the Sub-Sector's operations will fall into semi-paralysis," a senior staff officer cautiously reminded.
Alex's gaze did not waver in the slightest: "Paralysis is better than destruction! The Rostov Sub-Sector does not have the foundation of a millennia-old Hive City, nor Space Marine monasteries stationed here, let alone a massive fleet cluster.
We are like a newly built wooden house on frozen ground; a 'pestilence' can uproot us."
His voice was low but filled with firm resolve: "I would rather let this Sub-Sector tremble in fear for ten years than give those 'model citizens' hiding in the shadows ten years to hatch swarms of destruction!"
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